On his first album in 11 years, Daughn Gibson retreats into the swamps; it’s a good place for him, his voice bubbling up from underwater and leaching downriver. Lake Mary not mysterious sets its mind towards the Sunshine State, joining a tradition of Florida noir that encompasses Arthur Penn’s Night Moves, Kelly Reichardt’s River of Grass, mid-period Harmony Korine, Carl Hiaasen’s adult novels, and Gibson’s personal favorite—Volker Schlöndorff’s Palmetto, sharing its name with both the city and the bug.

It’s a bit shocking to realize how long it’s been since we left off with Gibson, né Josh Martin, former stoner-metal drummer whose striking 2012 debut All Hell sounded like CFCF holed up in a hotel on a diet of Jack Daniels and Eddie Rabbitt tapes. A deal with Sub Pop followed, more than half a decade before radio country became an acceptable influence in indie rock, but Gibson remained a cult curio.…